Ivory Ghosts (24 page)

It was between sunset and moonrise, and in the darkness, I heard the elephants roaring and rumbling as they converged onto the floodplain from all directions. As one group reached the water and settled in to drink noisily, another group roared and rumbled as they emerged from the tree line upriver. Another group arrived from downriver. The floodplain became one giant elephant reunion in the pitch-black night. The sounds of roaring, screaming, bellowing, trumpeting, and rumbling all blended in this ancient ritual, while the hippos hooted, snorted, and bellowed in objection to the intrusion on their territory.

I decided to go in and take a shower before it got too cold. My eye was continuing to swell, and I wanted to soak it. And since I had finally hooked up my Geyser, I was able to enjoy hot showers at night.

I stood in the shower with a washcloth over my face, trying to clear my mind of all thoughts—particularly thoughts about Sianga. He knew all he had to do was get to the Kongola police gate. He was to be taken to Windhoek from there. He should be fine.

I was able to text Craig to let him know what happened, since I couldn't ask Natembo to stop at the gate. I couldn't risk raising suspicions if I were to get out and talk to the MCD who were waiting for me there. He texted back that he had contacted the Kongola gate, and that they were handling that side of things. They started a search for Sianga right away. Craig said he would text as soon as Sianga was safe.

Now I wished that I hadn't listened to Craig when he forbade me from flying Sianga down myself. He and his MCD colleagues in Windhoek had felt that the many hours in the air would give the triad enough time to arrange for a greeting party at the Windhoek airport. Driving was the more anonymous way to go. When I suggested landing at a private airstrip outside Windhoek, he had problems with that plan as well, but couldn't tell me the reason.

The hot water tingled through my body and dissolved the tension in my spine. I imagined I was floating along the Kwando on a small rubber dinghy, gentle ripples sloshing around my vessel as I drifted down a narrow, reed-lined channel flanked by elephants. I let my muscles relax and I started drifting faster, water splashing up over the gunnels, but I was in control, steering down one path or another by pressing my feet against the soft nose of the boat.

I turned down a small channel to the right. It was getting dark. A copper-tailed coucal called softly within the reeds overhead.
BOO-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo.
Somewhere in the distance there was a response. And then another and another.

I woke just as I hit my head on the shower wall. I had fallen asleep standing up.

I turned off the water, toweled dry, and got out of the shower. I combed my wet hair and put on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I felt a little better, but suddenly recognized the reality of how alone I was out here in the bush. I placed my bedroll out on the porch, put a gin and tonic on the table, and sat down in my camp chair to watch the moonrise, determined not to feel sorry for myself.

The waning yellow moon ballooned like a giant spinnaker above the floodplain, casting the landscape in a silvery sheen just as Jon's truck pulled up to my barracks. I watched his approach, trying not to show how excited I was to see him, and noticed the shadowy figure of Natembo disappear down the road. He must have been keeping an eye on me all this time and had radioed Jon to come out.

Jon walked up to the porch, carrying a picnic basket. He looked more handsome than ever as he sat down on the top step next to my chair. “Nice spot for a
braai,
” he said gently, following my gaze to the moon. “Certainly a better vantage for a moon watch than Katima.”

“You braved the elephants.” I continued to stare at the moon.

“Hell, it was like driving through the bloody Jurassic period out there.”

I smiled. “Thought you'd be used to that by now.”

He could tell I was being distant and tried to lighten the mood. “Listen, one mustn't get complacent with the beasts of the night.”

“Fair enough.” I opened the tonic and poured it over a shot of gin. “I hope you brought some shandy. I hate to drink alone.”

“What I should have brought is some ice.” Jon touched the swollen area around my eye. “Christ, Catherine, how are you holding up?”

“I'm okay.” I took a sip of my drink and could tell Jon was holding something back. “How is Nandi?”

Jon put a hand on my knee. “She's in critical condition, I'm afraid. The doctor is hopeful, but the next twenty-four hours will be important.”

I pulled away as my throat constricted. Fighting back the tears, I gasped, “I want to go see her.”

Jon got up, grabbed my other camp chair, placed it next to mine, and sat down. He put a hand on my shoulder. “She'll have a nurse with her through the night. And her mother is there.” He gently pulled me into his chest and hugged me. “There's nothing you can do tonight.” He ran his hand through my hair. “We'll check on her first thing in the morning. For now, you need to get some rest.”

This didn't feel real. It couldn't be real. I was so full of rage but at the same time felt immobilized, faced with this new twist of fate—that Nandi might not make it. Until now, I had been focused on Sianga. And I hadn't gotten a text from Craig yet to confirm that he was okay.

Uncertain of my silence, Jon pulled away from me and looked at my faraway eyes. “I am so sorry,” he said. “We're going to get these guys, Catherine. We're going to get them. I promise you, we will.”

I exhaled and dropped my shoulders, feeling completely defeated by Craig's warning that Jon hadn't been cleared of suspicion yet. “Why does my life seem like one giant mistake after another?”

Jon stood up. “Unfortunately, humans have the most irritating capacity to remember the bad more than the good.” He grabbed his basket and opened it. “I get the sense that there are many good things in your life, punctuated by a few bad events.” He pulled out a tablecloth, a candle, two forks, and two plates and set the table. “Fatalistic or not, I believe there's a lot of happiness to be had if one remains open to that possibility.” He removed two plastic containers from his basket. “And I have just the thing to cheer you up.” He lit the candle and opened a container and drew it under my nose for me to smell it. “I brought some mushroom stroganoff. Fresh from the termites.”

I tried to smile. “When did you have time to make that?”

“I promise you, it doesn't take but a few minutes.” His eyes twinkled. “Once sliced, the mushrooms are sautéed with a bit of butter and onion, a dollop of cream, and a dash of sherry for taste. Those termites know how to garden a bloody good fungus.”

He went into his basket and pulled out a spoon. He scooped rice onto the plates from one container and stroganoff from the other.

I stared at the flickering candle. “I guess you assumed I wouldn't have plates?”

“Judging from your fondness for tinned repast, no.”

“I'm not that bad, you know. I can cook a fine ratatouille when I have the right ingredients.”

Jon's eyes lit up. “Really, hey?”

“And refrigeration.”

“Yes, we'll have to do something about that. I think I might know a bloke that would be willing to lend you a small gas fridge.” He took a bite, smacked his cream-covered lips in delight, and then licked off the cream. “Oh, I have outdone myself. Come, Catherine, you must try it.”

I picked up my fork to try the delicious-smelling concoction, while Jon continued on about the fridge. “The freezer section is just big enough to hold two lamb chops.” He pointed a fork at me. “Have the butcher vacuum-pack them and they'll last a week or more.”

I watched his lips as he spoke, and started laughing. There was something in how earnest he was about his explanation—the exact dimensions of the freezer measured in lamb chops—that struck me. The man sitting in front of me couldn't be a bad man. I was tired of waiting for Craig to come around. It was time to trust myself.

“What's funny?” He looked at me, concerned. “Is the cream off or something?”

“No, it's delicious, really, it's just funny how you measured the dimensions of the freezer in lamb chops, that's all.”

“One must be civilized in the bush. We must get you a fridge.”

“I haven't wanted to buy one since I won't be here very long.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

I lost myself for a moment in the rich cream and sherry-flavored mushrooms and then felt guilty about it. How could I be having such a delicious meal when Sianga was probably still out there somewhere, Nandi was in the hospital in critical condition, and elephants were being slaughtered over the border? And then I recalled the frenzied grip of hungry men on my body and put my plate down a little too suddenly. I took long deep breaths to hold back the panic.

Jon put his plate down and blew out the candle. He took my hands in his. “I'm sorry, Catherine.” He wrapped his arms around me as I tried to control my breathing.

“Please stay here with me tonight,” I mumbled weakly. “I don't want to be alone.”

“Of course I'll stay.” He rubbed my back for a while and then took my hand. “Here,” he said as he helped me out of my chair, “let's stretch out and look at the stars.” Jon helped me into my bedroll. “You'll feel better in the morning.” He got up and headed down the stairs. “I've got my bedroll in the back of the truck. I'll be right over here.”

“Could you sleep up here, next to me?”

Jon smiled. “Of course.”

I watched him unpack his bedroll next to mine. I closed my eyes while he was tucking himself in and woke some time later to the loud demonic giggling of hyenas coming from the forest. I looked next to me at Jon lying in his bedroll, eyes also open.

There was a loping, pounding sound pressing toward us from all sides, just as the yipping started.
Yeaouoooo. Growl.
And then the most terrible high-pitched squeal and giggle as the action closed in on us.

Jon whispered, “They're hunting!”

I nodded. I had never been right in the middle of a hyena hunt like this. The noise was both terrifying and thrilling.

We lay there listening, looking up at the waning moon, the Milky Way becoming more brilliant as the night wore on and the moon set. We didn't move until all the hyenas had left and it was silent again.

Jon was staring at the stars. “You know, Catherine, when I look up there, no matter how bad things get, I feel like I'm winning.”

I looked away. “I used to see hope up there. Now all I see are stars.”

He reached over and touched my cheek. “I don't believe you mean that.”

With the feeling of Jon's touch on my face, I fell asleep again, smiling.

I woke to the early morning cries of fish eagles echoing up and down the Kwando River. It was five forty. I stretched and immediately felt where all the bruises were. Ouch. And then I could feel the throbbing in my eye. Damn it. It felt like Jell-O to the touch. I snuck quietly out of my bedroll and walked down to the chilly river's edge.

A heavy mist sat above the fast-flowing water and rose up in peaks, taking the shape of ghostly forms floating in a procession up to the bend in the river. Somewhere along the bend, the current changed direction in a small eddy, and the misty figures turned and headed back in the opposite direction, as if uncertain of their destiny. There was a sadness about their movement, as if they were somehow personifying what was happening in this place.

A slight breeze came up, and the mist dissipated. A mobilizing force was mounting within me and I fought it back as the water churned past. Soothed by the tug of the current, I let my negative thoughts flush away. I was going to do something to make this right. I had solidified my resolve, but the path had yet to present itself. The induna would come up with something. He'd figure out what I could do. The MCD would find Sianga and all of this pain would not have been for nothing. But I'd still had no word from Craig on the status of his whereabouts.

I sat on the riverbank until the thought of hot tea drew me back to the barracks. As soon as I returned, Jon woke up.

He sat up on his elbow. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Thought I'd get an early start to the day.”

“You okay?”

“How do you take it, Jon? I mean…living here?”

Jon paused. “There was a time when I thought I was saving wildlife. But, hell, who am I kidding?”

“But you must care. Otherwise, why would you take so many risks?”

Jon lay back down on his back. “If I sat around here like everyone else, I'd become like them. I can't let that happen. There's so little left of me as it is. If something doesn't change, they're going to have to fly me out in a straitjacket.”

I smiled.

He sat up. “Can I convince you to go to Windhoek for a little while? Just till all this blows over?”

I shook my head.

Jon looked concerned. “Let my guys handle this. It's just too dangerous now.” He waved me over. “Come, sit down. I want to see how your eye is doing.”

I sat down and let him press at it for a minute. “It's fine, really.” I gently pulled his hand away from my face.

Jon took my hand in one hand and drew across my knuckles with the other. “It's going to be better for everyone if you keep some distance.”

Inasmuch as I had quelled my doubts about this man, I couldn't help wondering if there was an ulterior motivation for him saying this. Like he wanted the troublemaker out of the picture. I pulled my hand away. “I've got to do something. I can't just run away.”

“Just what exactly is driving all this for you?” He got out of his bedroll and walked the length of the porch. “When will you stop bloody feeling guilty for things that were not your fault?” He looked at my expression and sat next to me, softening his tone. “Look, I understand that you feel responsible for what happened to Nandi, but you could set the whole investigation back to ground zero. And I don't want anything else to happen to you.”